Lollipops: A Christmas Special
by LeighJ11
Summary: Lollipop fans come on over for a little side story. New comers: head dive first in a three part, smutty Christmas themed fic.
1. Chapter 1

**Dun-dun-a! My first ever Christmas special! This is in the universe of my other fic** Lollipops **, but it didn't feel right adding this to that as it can be read as a separate story. You don't have to read** Lollipops **for that reason, but there may be references you don't understand because of it. If you're just here for smut though, who cares? So this will have three parts and will hopefully ruin candy canes for you. Enjoy and we're not even in December yet but Merry Christmas!**

Lollipops.

It begins and ends with those little fuckers. No clue what he's gonna do when they really do fucking run out of them. Probably go searching four towns over just to make his wife smile that goddamn heart stopping smile full of teeth and full cheeks. _Wife_. It still makes him reel, thinking of Beth like that.

His gorgeous wife who birthed his son who bears his name. It's too fucking much, everything he's got in such a shitty existence. Shit scary too, fucking terrifying, but he's learning to handle it so he can get his head in the fucking game and protect them. It's all he functions for anymore, the only reason he still walks the Earth.

No one and nothing else motivates him like his family and he'll never put anyone before them. Fucking crazy, since he never thought he would think like that. Years ago, he would have thought about exactly one person: his own damn self. Merle looked out for his own drunk ass, so Daryl didn't have no qualms about looking out for himself too.

Now he's the last person he thinks about. When he doesn't jump from three stories, it isn't because he fears the pain or the breaking of one of his bones, it's because he wouldn't be able to walk to his son's crib and pick him up in the dead of the night to cradle, leaving his precious girl to sleep. Her too. She's the reason he turns back from danger.

So he can massage her tired shoulders, so he can soothe her after a day of looking after their son, feeding him with milk she produces all by her goddamn self. Fuck, she's perfect. He don't deserve her; don't deserve to look at the stretched skin their son left behind, evidence of the miracle she carried and birthed.

Don't deserve his big, dirty hands on her fucking amazing body that he watched grow and transform and bloom before it reduced, shrunk, reshaped. She blows his fucking mind with her big blue eyes and soft, downy hair. He loves her. Plain and simple. Loves her so much fucking more for protecting their son in her fucking _stomach_.

It's his wife he watches now with eager eyes, tracking her puzzled frown as she tucks at the ribbon he hastily tied together. There's a spot of blood on it after he cut his sweaty hand when it slid down onto his blade killing a walker. She doesn't care though: excitement is beaming out of her eyes despite the frown, her fingers eager on the satin.

"Just tell me what it is," she breathes as she glances up at him, still tugging.

Daryl smirks, eyes drawn as always to the wedding band on her left finger. "Open it an' you'll see."

She giggles and looks back down, putting conscious effort into it and finally, successfully unties the ribbon, smoothing it out on the table they're sat at. Her hands are practically shaking as she opens the little gift box he hauled out of an old Walmart, glancing down as the flat pack walls of the box collapse outwards dramatically and reveal the gift.

"Oh my God!" Beth exclaims, gripping the clear bag tied with red and green shiny ribbon. " _Oh my God_!" She repeats.

Daryl huffs a laugh, fingers fidgeting under the table. "You like 'em?"

"Like? _Like_?" She asks almost hysterically. "Daryl, thank you so much!"

He watches her as she pulls at the bag, ready to rip it open for the candy inside. "No," he says, reaching his hand over.

She looks up at him with big, doe eyes. "What? Why? Daryl, it's a _candy cane_ ," she stresses, like he didn't search a whole damn town for them.

"Yeah, I see that," he answers, tugging on the bag until it comes out of her hand. "You ain't havin' 'em yet. Got bigger plans for 'em."

She gapes at him. "So you're teasin' me? You're showin' me what I ain't allowed to eat yet?"

He smirks. "Winter's here. Christmas."

She arches an eyebrow. "You can't possibly know that."

He shrugs. "Guess."

"I really can't have them?" She asks, deflated. "Not even one?"

"Yeah," he says easily. "You can have 'em now an' never know what I got planned or you can wait for summat better."

"What kinda plans?"

"Sexy ones. Dirty ones," he answers without missing a beat. "Fuckin' filthy."

Never will he get bored of the way Beth's eyes blow wide with lust. "I'll wait."


	2. Chapter 2

**Enjoy!**

Her husband is driving her fucking crazy.

Yet, she can't even be mad at him. Who can say that they met Daryl Dixon and he was a playful, smiley man? No one. No one but her. He brought her home a bag of candy canes what she thinks was around three weeks ago and since then, he's done nothing but tease the ever living shit out of her.

Honestly, she's not sure how much she can take trying to guess the mysterious 'dirty' things he wants to do with her that include candy canes. The thoughts alone are driving her around the bend, especially with the memories of that broken lollipop she twirled through the thick runner of cum on her cheek and sucked clean.

If the thoughts weren't enough to soak her panties, this sudden, playful version of her husband would do it all on its own. She knows her husband well, better than anyone in the world, this she can say on her own life and it's not like she buys into the same façade everyone else does: that he's a dirty, red neck hillbilly who's good for nothing.

But the fact of the matter is: she does know him well and the most playful she's ever really gotten him is in the comfort of their own bed, where it's just them. He's such a serious guy and she loves him completely but it's so damn fun to see this sudden flirtation bloom out of him like a new flower.

He's usually all "I'll die for you" and "you an' Daryl Junior'll always be safe while my hearts beatin'" and it's amazing to hear these things, the promises she cherishes with her heart for the day when she is alone because no one's pretending here: getting old doesn't happen anymore. So yes, she cherishes them, but they're such serious, determined statements.

To see this sudden smiley side is so goddamn contagious and it's doing nothing but getting her hot and bothered. In summary, she's getting a little caught up in the flirting. She hasn't felt like a teenager for longer than she can remember and it's a little startling to realise that she's probably only around twenty or twenty one now even though she feels so much older.

She never had a chance to spread her wings and explore the very short years she was given to be young and free. Not that she's too bothered because if she could rewind time and be offered the walkers and her family versus her old life, she knows deep in her heart which one she would take.

Guilt always clouds this decision which is why she doesn't say it aloud because how many people died before she got this little family she loves so much? Her mama, Shawn, Otis, Patricia, Jimmy, her daddy... the list is endless and it always will be. It's because of the fact that the list is endless; because of the world that they live in that Beth lets herself enjoy this.

Even though Daryl's driving her batshit crazy with want; even though his husky voice whenever he catches her eyeing the candy canes has her rubbing her legs together and even though he keeps making her nipples twist painfully hard every time he looks at her, Beth knows she doesn't really mean it when she scowls or rolls her eyes.

She's enjoying herself far too much to put on a good act and her husband knows her just as well as she knows him, which means he can read her like a book. She thinks maybe that's why their relationship is only getting better.

That the more he understands her; the more he allows her into his heart, the less he hesitates and panics about fucking up. She's so caught up in this game of flirtation and coy smiles they're playing, that she's dived head first into giggly teenager meeting her crush for a first date and enlisted the help of some girlfriends.

Not all the houses in the zone were filled with people when they got here and still aren't, leaving many closets unclaimed. Rosita and Sasha had scoured for her so she didn't have to leave Daryl Junior. He's still so tiny, even if he is nearly six months old and she feels a lurch in her stomach being without him.

She's only managed to do it once before: when Maggie come in from a run a little battered and Daryl Jr. wouldn't settle enough for her to take him. She was gone less than an hour, but she could barely focus. Sasha and Rosita took pity on her inability to part from her child and did the hunting for her, managing to find three pieces in total.

When she saw them however, she didn't even have to debate between the choices. Discarding the other two, she fingered at the bra and pantie set they had found. It was snow white. Not the off-white or yellow kind of 'white' that you find now, but real _white_ , like her bedsheets on the farm.

Where it cups her breasts, it has two separate straps each side. One hooked over her shoulders like any other bra, but the other one connected from in between her cleavage, running parallel to each other and hooking over her neck around to the back of the bra, giving a lift to her breasts that are admittedly, beginning to sag a little.

They had ballooned so much when she was pregnant that the come down was quite drastic, leaving her with loose skin she could pinch between her fingers. It still makes her cringe when she sees it even though Daryl couldn't care less. Sometimes a woman's body is just for them and their husband's and any other opinion is invalid.

Plus, her breasts have always been an insecurity for Beth. So when they got bigger she thought she would have been happy, except she didn't like the way they sat on her small body. They got bigger before her belly did too, so it all looked a little disproportionate.

By the time she was in proportion, she was nearly full term and on a long stretch of road in the blasting heat, reeling from the loss of her daddy. Now as she looks in the mirror in the corner of hers and Daryl's room, she runs her fingers over the soft, raised lumps of her breasts and hums as the fabric massages her nipples.

She can see them she realises, through the mesh of the bra and it makes her throat tighten, watching them grow hard and tight, the soft pink so contrasting against the white. She can't fully grasp how _white_ the set is. Forget the extravagant sexiness of it, she's absolutely mesmerised by the colour.

She wishes she had honey gold skin to really set it off, but her milk bottle flesh is all she's got to work with. She's distracted by the panties after that, which have a thick, sexy band that sits high on her hips. This, she likes a lot because it hides the aggressive red stretch marks.

Beth loves her son more than she can comprehend and when she was pregnant she couldn't give a shit about the angry tearing of her skin, so enraptured with the life growing inside her. Now she stands here looking at her stomach and in the back of her mind she remembers how young she really is and she can't quite pair the two together: her age with her skin.

It's a silly thing to be so insecure about, but she doesn't want Daryl to look at her one day and decide she's disgusting. She can't imagine he ever really would and she knows it's irrational, but it pounds in her head like a drum beat when she's naked and it's something she fights whenever her clothes come off.

Perhaps if her husband was a complete asshole she would never get naked again, but the look in his eye when he sees her bare makes her feel like a goddess. The blatant sexual hunger when he looks at her… looks at the stretch marks, like it turns him on beyond rationality…. God, she's getting herself worked up.

Her eyes flick to the bedroom door, listening out for the front one. He's due home soon and she's getting so lost in her body in this lingerie that she's not going to get in position quick enough. Daryl said it was nearly Christmas and it's been weeks since then.

It's not like they truly know but Beth's going out on a limb and pretending its Christmas Eve. He and Rick brought a tree home for them last week so why not? In the spirit of Christmas, she wants to exchange gifts. Her wrapped up in this flimsy, see-through underwear for her husband and Daryl finally telling her his plans with the candy canes.

She pulls a little at the set, trying to make herself comfortable before she walks away from her mirror image. It's a little too tight because its previous owner must have been a size goddamn zero, but she'll make allowances for it. It's not like she could find something that actually fits her in this day and age.

Besides, she would rather have something a little too small that makes her breasts strain in the bra than something too big that would hang off her like elephant skin. Clearing her throat, Beth runs her hand over the band across her stomach.

It's thin and flimsy, lying across her belly button and she's not really sure what it's there for, but it seems to hold the panties up on her hips, snapping tight over her stomach. She already feels the bite of it and she knows she's going to pay for this sexy little piece later in vicious red marks.

She stops running her hands over her flesh, too sensitive to any kind of touch to not react to it. It's not like they haven't had sex in forever. They have sex as often as they can, which is quite a lot considering their limitations and it never gets boring, which is something she is truthfully waiting to happen.

Doesn't it happen to every married couple? But actually having sex is not the point. It's the sex itself. All the time its quick, half-conscious fucking and they pass out nearly two minutes after. Daryl junior usually cries or she's exhausted and the orgasm destroys her.

Her poor husband is practically getting a sex doll and she's so eager to impress him today that her clit is already pounding with excitement. Just as she turns away from the mirror, satisfied with the underwear, even if it is a little on the tight side, the baby starts crying and she curses under her breath.

Has she been fussing over herself for so long that he's already due his next feed? She glances towards the bedroom door which is propped open, allowing her sons wailing to flood through. It twists her heart to hear him cry and not all of it is guilt for his trembling sobs.

It's fear, that somewhere out there, a walker can hear him and releases a hungry moan. Beth shudders and grabs Daryl's big denim jacket from over the dressing table, sliding her arms into the leather sleeves so she's covered as she runs past the window. Even as she hurries on bare feet to her crying child, she smiles into the denim fabric.

It's huge on her and smells so much like her husband she could be wrapped up in his hug. It's also the same one he wore for the majority of the time they were on the road to Alexandria and it holds so many memories in its fibres. The sun is setting and so her sons recently painted room is washed in a soft orange glow.

He was in hers and Daryl's room for a couple months but now he sleeps in here. Beth doesn't particularly like it but the baby likes it in here. When it was empty she would walk around on his early morning feed and he would always fall silent when they entered.

She has no idea what it is he likes so much about this room, but he settles so well in here and she wants her baby to be happy. If that means getting out of bed to check on him every ten minutes? So be it. Daryl thinks she's overprotective but he doesn't understand what it feels like.

To go from protecting this tiny precious thing in your body to bringing them into the world? Even without walkers, Beth's pretty sure she would have heart palpitations for the rest of her days. With walkers? How can she even look away from him? And who is she kidding? Walkers aren't even half the problem anymore.

She shudders and scoops her baby up a little eagerly out of his crib. His soft, warm weight settles into her as she parts his daddies' jacket to press him to her belly, hushing him under her breath.

"Hey there, baby. You hungry?"

He gives a wobbly little cry and her heart twists seeing his wet little cheeks. She wipes his face down with Daryl's sleeve and turns down the flimsy cup of her bra, guiding him to her nipple. His mouth opens eagerly and hungrily quests for his milk, latching on easily and gently sucking.

Beth hums over him as she paces around his room, looking out the window at the descending sun and darkening sky. She knows he'll fall asleep ten minutes into eating but he won't let her put him back down for another five after that, so she exits his room and walks back to hers and Daryl's, trying to light candles one-handed.

It takes her longer than it really should with her son latched onto her nipple and she has to pause once to clean up the mess he's made on his face and her breast. As she's turning back to his room, feeling his mouth go slack as he finishes his milk, she represses a scream at the hulking figure in the doorway to her room, gripping her son tight to her chest.

"Daryl, you scared the crap outta me!"

But her husband isn't listening and she remembers quite suddenly all the plans she had. Except she looks around at the bedroom she didn't have time to tidy, feels the ache in her arm from her son's sleeping weight, the air on her nipple where he's unlatched from feeding and the tight fabric under the swell of her breast and rolls her eyes.

"I should'a known this wouldn't have worked," she mutters, resettling their son over her shoulder so she can start burping him.

"S'workin' for me," Daryl rumbles, his voice so low and hot Beth's stomach clenches.

She turns her head to the mirror and takes herself in with the aid of the burning candles. Her left breast is still out, her nipple hard from the cold and her other one is covered with the flimsy fabric. Daryl's jacket hangs open off her frame, revealing the panties high on her hips and the denim edge falling down low so only the peaks of her ass cheeks are showing.

Turning back to her husband, she licks her lips at the burning heat in his eyes. "I wanted to give you a present for Christmas."

He leans into the doorjamb with a raised eyebrow, a cocky little smirk on his face that takes her breath away because he's so damn sexy. "You burped 'im yet?"

Beth's a little thrown by the change in conversation but she shakes her head as she keeps rubbing her little boy's back over her shoulder. "Ain't brought it up yet."

"Burp 'im," he says as he steps closer, making her stomach summersault. He presses a kiss to their baby's head. "Then come find me back here."

He turns to leave and Beth's not even embarrassed by her high strung, breathy voice when she squeaks, "where you goin'?"

Daryl doesn't stop walking or turn back to her when he says, "to get the candy canes."


	3. Chapter 3

Beth's pretty sure she's hyperventilating.

Less than two minutes ago she winded burped her baby boy and lay him gently in his crib, knowing even then that she has a maximum of half an hour before he wakes up completely. He usually feeds and falls back into sleep for a little bit, but then he's up and awake for an hour, usually two if he's got his daddy's attention.

Now she's crossing the landing back to the room she shares with her husband, her heart sky rocketing in her chest at the partially shut door, the minutes counting down in her head to when their child is going to stir and stop whatever it is he has planned for her.

She doesn't want to rush, that was the whole point of tonight, but things are different with a baby. She's always on a schedule lately, so attuned to her son that she can feel the moment he's about to wake up. Taking a deep breath and fluffing at her hair, Beth nudges her bedroom door open, eyes seeking Daryl.

Standing at the dressing table, his body is large and thick in the small room, the candles illuminating him in all the right places. The high ridges of his cheekbones, the sharp lines of his jaw, his hot eyes. The rest of him is lost to shadow and it's a tossup as to whether he's still dressed or not.

The bag of candy canes are on the dressing table and Beth's skin prickles hot at the mere sight of the red and green ribbon. It's only then she realises she's still wearing his jacket and she feels a little ridiculous in it; over heated.

When she moves to shuck it off, Daryl's low voice grumbles, "leave it. All of it."

A shiver rolls down her spine. He has such authority laced into his words tonight. Sometimes he'll bring it out for her, gets lost in himself. A lot of the time he's just shy of timid, his words hanging in the air like there should be a question mark on them. God, she's so in love with him.

She feels it in every part of her body, orbiting to her heart. It's like she has no room for anything else and sucked into the quiet of their bedroom, bathed in the dying candles, Beth feels completely lost in his eyes. That countdown in her head dissipates and her limbs unwind, the tension she always feels when he's not around bleeding out of her flesh.

It's terrifying, watching him walk out of the door every morning and never really knowing if he will come back to her; to their son. He's one of the best fighters she knows, so multi skilled it blows her mind. Daryl can tell her the difference between a dry twig snapping under the pressure of a human foot or a strong wind tearing out a branch.

Beth never imagined these things could sound different, but they do. She can't tell a sound apart from the next, she can't tell if it's human, walker, animal or nature. All four of them can be dangerous out on the road and she knows maybe the more egotistical souls of the group won't admit it, but they wouldn't have survived as long as they did without Daryl.

Both times. The winter on the road before and the summer after the prison. He's such a complex, awe inspiring person. The things he's been through, the things he's had to do before and after the walkers. She can't even fathom having to kill Maggie the way he had to kill Merle.

He still has nightmares about it. Sweats and shakes and screams, calling out his brother's name. Sometimes he lashes out in the night, fists flying and catching the tender skin of her arms or the angle of her hip. Beth tries not to tell him about these incidents because it will only hurt him, but sometimes he sees the marks and she can't lie to him.

This will usually lead to sorrowful, silent sex the kind that is unexplainable to another human soul. The darkness of a bedroom, the heaviness of the blankets, the squeak of the mattress and the heat of Daryl hot and heavy between her thighs, the broad expanse of his back too big for her to truly wrap her arms around.

There's always something different with Daryl. Sometimes he makes love to her and sometimes he fucks her. Maybe that's why she never gets bored of sex with him, because it's like she gets multiple affairs with the only person she's ever been in love with, the only body that makes her run so hot it's unhealthy.

Like now, he's all silence and mysterious, eyes hot and dark, body lost to shadow. The way his eyes shine out in the candle light makes Beth feel like he's a wolf stalking his prey and when he gives her a devilish grin she feels it so keenly her pussy pulsates, her breath hitching. He stalks closer into the light and she sees he's completely naked.

This seems to hit her faster and harder than she can deal with because she falls back into the door with a clatter, forcing it to click shut. The sound ricochets around the room and floods her senses, leaving her numb and docile as her husband crosses the room in all his glory, dick already hard and standing proud against his belly.

He's getting closer and she still hasn't spoken, too lost in the beauty of him to gather her wits. She just can't shake this imagery that he's a wolf emerging, like a shape shifter whose muscles transformed from hard muscle under silky fur to the man before her, thick shoulders and bulging biceps.

If she allows her eyes to go a little cross eyed, which isn't hard in her scrambled state of mind, the candle light makes his muscles look like they're vibrating, like his bones are slithering back into place. It's such a bizarre fantasy and she doesn't know where it's coming from, but there's something about an alpha male, a dominating animal claiming her…

Beth shivers and then he's there, looming over her, always so much taller and broader, but tonight, impossibly, even more so. She's completely lost in the size of him, in the gritty lust his eyes hold, in the tight clench of his jaw as he stares down at her, eyeing her from her head to her toes.

It's only as his naked chest brushes her that she realises how deeply she's breathing, her chest gallivanting like she's sprinting when she's stood rock still. She still hasn't spoken and he hasn't either since he told her to keep everything on, but she feels mute, like if she talks she'll break this soft, golden bubble they've spun together.

His hand raises and his skin is such a beautiful dusky brown in the light emitting from the candles, resting against her chest and fingers so wide they span her throat. Beth takes in a rattling breath at the sight. Exactly what she was craving earlier: golden skin against this beautiful white two piece she's squeezed herself into. Daryl's flesh does so much justice to the garment.

She silently vows to never take it off if he's always gonna look at her like this, if his skin is always gonna be as beautiful against hers as it is now. It's so damn entrancing, she nearly misses the flash of his other hand reaching up to squeeze her right tit, forcing a startled moan out of her throat. He hums under his breath, flexing his fingers.

They're cut afresh, knuckles as tattered as usual and it makes Beth's belly jump. He's such a man. He makes her feel like a cherished idol, a Goddess he worships. Swallowing back another throaty moan, she bites down on her lip as his hand tugs on the flimsy bra. The cup folds down and he massages her swollen nipple as his other hand falls to her ass.

His hot hand quests under the jacket she's wearing, flesh searing against hers when he squeezes her ass cheek. There's things she wants to say but words are beyond her reach in this cocktail of breathless excitement she's drowning in. There's no way she could speak anyway, not when his fingers hook into her thong and _rip_.

Beth's frame jerks against the door, rattling it. "Daryl!"

"I'm gonna find you some that fit," is all he growls as he takes hold of the band around her belly and tugs.

The fabric jerks and Beth gasps again but all she can manage is a whimpered, "okay."

His fingers dip straight into her slit and she groans deeply, nails digging into his bare shoulders, face pressed deep into his chest. Without a moments hesitation his mouth claims her, demanding a surprised moan from her own lips. His tongue sweeps in uncharacteristically determined, claiming her with a hot, wet kiss. She's gasping when he pulls away.

They don't kiss very often. It's something that sometimes bothers her but which she accepts. It's affection and Daryl struggles to show that. Kissing can make you vulnerable and her husband is still learning how to do that. Hell, she can't really blame him. He kissed her so deep and fiercely she feels like she's already been fucked.

To top it off, he goes straight to her exposed throat, nuzzling into the collar of his jacket and against her skin to press opened mouthed, burning kisses against her neck until her eyes are rolling with delirious pleasure and goosebumps are raining down her arms.

Against her skin he whispers, "lift your leg baby girl."

Beth whimpers like a dog at the endearment which she loves but he won't use because he said it's the queerest thing he's ever heard. She does as she's told, parting her thighs and calling forth the cold air to her exposed, hot cunt. It's torture on her damp, swollen mound and she clutches Daryl even tighter.

It feels so dirty hot when he reaches between her thighs and runs his fingers up and down her soaked slit. Usually, his cock is the only thing teasing her pussy lips because her husband is too goddamn eager to fuck her. Not that it's really a problem. Now, it feels like a first time fumble in a dark alley and it's making her pussy clutch with desperation.

His fingers are rough in texture with callouses and they glide over Beth's swollen lips like silk, so contrasting it's mind blowing. He teases at her begging hole before bypassing to her ass to grip from the underneath so her parted pussy lips hug his forearm. Beth cries out something delirious as she grinds her clit against his skin, her hands slipping down to grip his biceps.

She thinks he's going to stop her but he doesn't and this spurs her, like she needs to get as much out of this before he does decide to stop her in her tracks. Hips grinding faster, massaging her clit, she turns her face into his bare shoulder and bites down in as many places as she can, moving on with quick, kitten nips at his flesh.

There's a rumbling vibration in his chest the longer she does it and she thinks she's actually gonna cum just like this when her leg spasms, a sign of her impending orgasm and Daryl jerks his arm away, leaving her leg in free fall and her belly jumping. His hand reaches for her ass again, from the back not the front and grips tight.

"Leg," he grates out.

Lifting her trembling thigh, she suckles at the skin of his bicep, tasting his flesh as she marks it. She loves his arms so damn much. She's got off to him jerking off so often it's insane, enraptured by his clenching biceps. He loves it when the bike breaks now because all she has to do is stand watching him work on it and soon she's ravenous.

Now at her ass, he squeezes her cheek and parts it, between her legs singing with need. Fingers begin questing and then when he's comfortable, he dips his first finger into her ass. Beth let's out a strangled noise, so mangled it almost sounds like _please_. His thick finger presses and curls, forcing into her asshole. Inside she's melting and outside… she's not even sure.

"You know what I'm gonna do to you?" He whispers in her ear.

Beth's eyes roll at the pitch of his voice. She shakes her head because she can't remember how to speak.

"I'm gonna ruin you."

A sob bursts out of her as she presses her ass back onto his finger now buried half way. He groans and digs harder, forcing the last of his thick digit in. Beth tenses and he pulls out, dipping into her dripping pussy and soaking his finger before he goes back to her ass and pushes in with new lube, slick and fast. Jesus Christ. Ruin her?

"You ruined me a long time ago, Mr. Dixon."

"Tha's 'cause you're mine _Ms_. Dixon."

 _Yes_.

Hearing that gets her so fucking wet and he knows it. Fuck. She needs to cum. It's ping balling around her body, bouncing off nerves and leaving her zinging with electricity. She's ready to combust, hips fucking back so his finger slides easily in and out of her ass.

Daryl grunts as pulls out to grip her hip, yanking on her. "Turn."

It's a demand and she feels it in the core of her being. She turns fast, hands smacking into the door with her back to him. Daryl's heavy breath blows across the nape of her neck, his hands tugging on the jacket and clearing it from her body. She whimpers in relief, the cool air sinful on her hot, irritated skin.

"Bend."

God, these clipped one word barks are turning her on so bad she's gonna start dripping juices down her legs from the excitement. Doing as she's told, Beth bends, rearranging her feet to do so. His hands come back to her ass, spreading her and baring everything to his hungry gaze. She swallows with heady lust.

When he bends her mind reels, trying to sum in less than a second all the things he could do to her. There isn't enough time though, because his tongue is swiping through the crack of her ass faster than she can process. Her nails scrabble at the door, the scratching noise so loud in the quiet room it makes her heart race and instantly she stops, panting hard.

Sweat is beading on her lip and the backs of her knees, her mouth gaping as he runs back through with a gravelly moan like he's feasting. God, he _is,_ he fucking is. Her face is so damn hot and her pussy so swollen, every part of her body trying to grab her attention to distract from the overwhelming ache in her cunt.

Her husband continues to eat her ass, leaving her a trembling, groaning mess for so long she lets her body absorb all of her attention, dwelling in the pleasure. Then she's shocked into attention by two thick fingers pressing into her pussy. At the same time his mouth gets more aggressive against her asshole, digging in so he's fucking her with the muscle.

Beth lets out a long string of shattered screams as he fucks her pussy deep, curling up into her g-spot hard over and over and _over_ again until she's pretty sure her soul has left her body because her brain completely shuts down. Power out, she can't stop the trembling wail that tears through the silent room as she cums.

Daryl's sexy growls vibrate up into her ass, extending the orgasm in a looping reel until he suddenly tears across the room, leaving her body in an abrupt cut out of sensation to snatch up the candy canes. The floorboards shake as he marches over them, shredding the clear bag to take a candy cane and grin at her.

"This was my plans."

Her throat catches when he takes the slick candy and slides it into her still fluttering pussy, soaking it in her cum. Beth's mouth gapes looking over her shoulder as he slides it in and out of her twice, teasing at more pleasure and then stopping just as the sparks flare, soaking the fire as he lifts the sugary confection to his mouth and sucks it clean of her juices.

Her knees give out against the door and he clenches the cane between his teeth to grab her waist. Is it possible to swoon at red, white and green stripped candy in your husbands mouth, flavoured from the cum of the earth shattering orgasm he just gave you? It would be pardoned, right?

Thoughts form and dissipate in her brain like smoke after that, coming and going as they please and not making all that much sense. The mattress gives under her weight as Daryl places her down, the cane still between his teeth and close to cracking under the pressure. Beth groans as he arranges her comfortably, her legs falling slack as she reaches up for the cane.

Daryl raises his brow as she takes it, holding his eyes as she pushes it between her legs twice more before bringing it back to her mouth and sucking her juices from it. His eyes flutter like they tried to close but he fought it and it sends a surge of power through her gut. God, he makes he feels so damn sexy.

"Eat it," he whispers.

She smiles as she does, chewing on a piece of hard rock as she offers it to him. His teeth snap off a chunk to chew and together they share the cane, the rush of sugar nothing like she's felt since the farm. It's heady and gives her such a burst of energy that when she finishes it, she reaches down with eager, sticky fingers.

They close around Daryl's naked cock, stroking up and down his shaft. He grunts, fucking into her clenched fist.

"What is it with you an' candy?" She teases breathlessly.

"S'as sweet as your pussy," he croons.

Beth's hips roll upwards, that clock suddenly springing to life in her head. Less than five minutes. She got so caught up in her husband she's barely gonna get time to fuck him before their son wakes up.

"C'mon, make it fast, the babies gonna wake up."

"S'so hot when you say that."

She laughs, spreading her legs over his hips. "Don't make jokes 'bout our decreasin' sex life, it's a real thing."

"Bullshit," he answers as he guides his cock to her, pushing in as he finishes with, "got a great damn sex life."

"Yeah," she breaths, clenching his shoulders. "Gonna need to go faster there _unh_ stud. Baby starts cryin' an' you're finishin' yourself up."

"Goddamn, you're hot when you're bossy," he grunts, gripping her thigh and shoving into her on a hard thrust.

"Three minutes," Beth pants, fucking her hips back as her stomach churns.

"S'all I need."

Damn fucking straight.

His hips snap harder and she throws her head back on a scream, reaching her hand down to rub furiously at her clit, forcing the bubbling orgasm to the surface.

"C'mon girl, I made you cum in ten seconds 'fore. You ain't gonna hold out on me," he growls.

"Don't _fuck_ brag! You we're workin' on _oh my fuckin' God_ the bike… all day!"

Christ words are getting harder by the damn second. Her thighs are hot and heavy around Daryl's plunging hips, his cock sinking so deep inside her she can feel it in her fucking womb.

"I can feel your pussy, baby girl, who you tryin'a impress?" He breathes in her ear.

God, he kills her when he talks like this, when he gets so long lost in himself he finally tells her all the things he's thinking. It's even sexier when his words are shaky with his own orgasm riding him, one he'll never give in to until she does first.

"Best get outta there 'less you want two kids," she groans, before adding on, "two minutes."

" _Fuck_ ," he spits, his hand flying up and smacking into the wall at the same time he plunges hard into her cunt.

Beth's neck tenses on the next scream, legs shaking rapidly with the pounding sensations numbing her spine. Daryl howls like a wounded wolf, bringing forward that same fantasy she had when she saw him in the dark corner of their room, allowing space inside her head to pretend he's an alpha male claiming his mate… impregnating her… no.

She pushes a little on his biceps, something she does to stop him from spilling inside her cunt. Just in time, he pulls out and let's loose thick, hot cum on on her pussy so it drips down onto her clit. The time to bask in it would be amazing, to just lie here cradled in her husbands body, but just like she knew he would, her son stirs awake crying.

A huge breath bowls out of her as she prepares to get up, but Daryl beats her to it, heaving upwards and leaving her in a puddle of her own cum. "I got i'm."

Beth rolls out of the bed anyway, stripping off the top layer of blankets that are soaked and balling them up to throw on the floor as Daryl leaves, butt naked to their boy. Dashing up, she pulls the curtains before she un-clips the bra and crawls back into bed, smiling as her two boys come back in.

Two seconds ago she was reminding him not to spill his cum and get her pregnant again, now her ovaries are screaming and she's ready to inseminate her own damn self watching him carrying their son, so tiny in his big, thick arms.

"Heyyy," she sing songs as her babies eyes pin to her and light up. "You had a good sleep baby?"

Her husband lays a kiss on her downy hair before he passes the baby over to Beth, placing another one on his head. "You want summat to eat?"

Beth groans, tipping her head back to kiss him. "I'm starvin'."

"Alrite," he murmurs, reaching for his discarded pants. "Don't touch them canes though, still got all night."

Beth's throat catches as her husband's tight ass walks away. A tiny hand against her cheeks draws her attention and she smiles down at her chunky, happy baby who has his daddy's eyes. This is what life has become: torn skin and rushed sex, dinner late as she waits for her husband in frightful anticipation and looted lingerie.

The thing is, it's so damn worth it.


End file.
